


Board(er collie) Meetings.

by Patchouli (lifelesslyndsey)



Series: How To Teach An Old Dog New Tricks [8]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Darcy Lewis, F/M, Tony Stark Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 10:24:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12746427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifelesslyndsey/pseuds/Patchouli
Summary: Tony balks, and pushes his weight back into her, refusing to budge. They’re making a spectacle, he knows it. He just doesn’t care. “I always need to talk. These ass hats won’t let me leave with nothing less than a blood oath, and a chunk of my flesh.”Darcy sighs, and pinches his nipple. Tony squawks and stumbles, nearly falling to the floor as she herds him deeper into the room . “Just...I got this, okay?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love them. I just fucking love them. Mostly rated mature for language and the hooker

The revelation that he might love Darcy does not change anything.  And why should it? Tony knows he’s a shit, knows he’s not what Darcy’s looking for, doesn’t even think Darcy knows what she’s looking for.  It sucks, but that’s life. It changes nothing. It doesn’t change him. Tony doesn’t know how to make it change anything between them, so it doesn’t.  It’s. Whatever. She doesn’t see him like that anyway.  They’re bro’s. Darcy is his bro. Tony’s just a fool. 

  
  


“Good Morning Mr. Stark,,” Darcy commands, standing at the foot of Tony’s bed. She’s wearing another suit thing, skin tight and still somehow respectable. Tony wonders if she has another  _ date _ . 

 

“Time s’it?” 

 

“Early as shit,” Darcy tells him, kicking the bed. The girl to his left stirs too, peering groggily over the covers. Tony groans, cracking one eye to see what kind of mistake he’s made. Another brunette then. He remembers being vaguely disappointed that her tits weren’t real. Third one in a row. Darcy finds it  _ funny _ . “Alright, both of you; up, up. Ms. Weatherly, you’ll find your things in the guest bathroom, please feel free to use the facilities, and help yourself to breakfast in the kitchen. Tony; we have a meeting in forty. Get up, wash the glitter off your junk, and throw on something expensive.  Wheels up in thirty.” 

 

The girl blinks, eyes flicking between Tony and Darcy. “How did you know my name?” 

 

Darcy blinks right back. “I found your wallet in the front hallway.” She pauses. “Where you left your pants.” 

 

“....Oh.” 

 

“Take this card,” Darcy says, pulling a blue slip from the pocket of her suit jacket. “A Stark car can take you home.  Tony go, now.”

 

Tony...does. But only because the girl is looks like she’s about to start  _ talking  _ and Tony would rather she didn’t. He slips into the ensuite bathroom without so much as a by-your-leave, and washes the club-funk of his junk, before slipping into the suit Darcy must have laid out for him, a charcoal gray Fendi.  The cufflinks are new, and Tony laughs as he picks them up off the counter; they’re little Iron Man heads. 

 

He hadn’t noticed before, but Darcy is dressed to kill. Far beyond her torn up jeans, or her naughty librarian office wear; Tony thinks she might be wearing Armani. The suit is tailored to the nines, fitting her like a well made glove. It’s black, and double breasted beneath her bust. It puts the ladies on display in a way no Walmart-bra could manage, and makes her waist look even more narrow. She’s already built like fucking comic book character, exaggerated curves, pouty lips, and tits like woa. Put a whip in her hand, and she wouldn’t look out of place in a Dom club. It makes Tony’s face feel hot just looking at her. 

 

Instead of commenting though, he lets his eyes fall to her shoes.  They’re new, shiny red pumps with a telling six inch red heel and she doesn’t even so much as stumble when she walks in them.  “Nice shoes.” 

 

Shark-grin on her face, Darcy arches a brow. “Let's go.” 

 

He didn’t ask where they were going. That was his first mistake. He’d been distracted by Carla, and then by Darcy’s boobs, and then her shoes and the image of her maybe throwing her legs over his shoulders while she wore said shoes. 

 

“Noooo,” he moans, clinging to the door frame. “Darcy, no.” 

 

“Tony, yes.” Darcy is having none of it. “You have ten seconds to get your ass in that boardroom, or I’m calling Caroline and telling her you want to meet her for dinner  _ tonight _ .” 

 

“Caroline?” Tony repeats, momentarily confused. His grip loosens on the frame and Darcy takes full advantage, digging her heels into the carpeted floor and shouldering him into the room. 

 

“The girl from this morning,” Darcy explains with zero censure, which is nice. “Get your ass in this boardroom.  You don’t even need to talk; you just need to be there.” 

 

Tony balks, and pushes his weight back into her, refusing to budge. They’re making a spectacle, he knows it. He just doesn’t care. “I always need to talk. These ass hats won’t let me leave with nothing less than a blood oath, and a chunk of my flesh.”

 

Darcy sighs, and pinches his nipple. Tony squawks and stumbles, nearly falling to the floor as she herds him deeper into the room . “Just...I got this, okay?”

 

And she  _ does _ . He’s reminded of her commandeering of Nick Fury, the firm, sexy, no nonsense sound of her voice. The boardroom’s eating it up, half entranced by the slick red of her pretty mouth and the deep stretch of cleavage.  Tony doesn’t have to talk. Just nod along, from where he sits at the end of the table. Darcy’s at the other end, behind a podium, as she throws up holo screens, and talks about shareholders and profit margins, and investment returns like a  _ boss _ .  The Heads don’t have much room to talk; she cuts their comments off before they can fire them off, knowing what to say, and when to say it to shut them up. At only half an hour in, she pulls the financial projection graphs down, and folds her hands one over the other. “Questions?”

 

Leroy McWhat-the-fuck-is-his-name clears his throat, and raises his hand. Darcy nods. “Who are you, again?” 

 

Darcy preens a little. “I’m Darcy Lewis, Pepper Potts assistant. I manage Mr. Stark.”

Tony scowls. It’s true, but still. 

 

“You do indeed,” Christian Seriously-who-are-these-people says, a thoughtful look on his face. “You convinced Mr. Stark to sit in on this meeting? His presence wasn’t required; it’s nothing more than a financial account.” 

 

_ Wasn’t required _ , Tony thinks, eye twitching. Darcy got him up for no fucking reason. She simply shrugs, mouth pursed. “I told him as much, but Mr. Stark was  _ most  _ insistent. He takes the care of his company very seriously.  I expect you’ll see more of him in the future.” 

 

Ned Does-it-even-matter nods, as if he knew as much. Like seeing Tony at shareholder meetings was totally the norm. He’s too enchanted by the shedevil temptress to consider how absurd her words are.  “Of course,” he mutters, mouth pulled into a line. “Earlier, you spoke of investment increase projections being ideal for current approved projects, but the bankroll didn’t include exploratory research.”

 

Darcy laughs at that, light and teasing. “When does it? Let’s face it, Mr.Ericson; people don’t want to invest in anything but a sure thing.” She pauses, eyes bright, and let’s a disarming smile curl her mouth. Tony thinks that if he didn’t know her, he’d give her anything she wanted for that smile alone. He thinks he does know her, and might anyway. “What they fail to realize is that Tony Stark is a sure thing.” She throws him a little wink, earning a round of titering laughter from the oldies. “He has yet to fail us in any of his creations. He heads up Research and Development himself; a job he is far overqualified for. Currently, exploratory research is funded almost entirely by Mr. Stark; he invests not only his money, but this time.” She looks down at her note cards for a long moment, before throwing them over her shoulder in a rain of paper. “I’m going to cut to the chase here. Tony Stark makes his father look like a kid at a fourth-grade science fair trying to turn a potato into a battery.” Tony feels his heart lodge itself in his chest, and can barely hear the sharp shock echoing across the boardroom. These are men who worship Howard Stark, their long-dead visionary. Tony’s always been Howard Stark's Son. “Howard was  _ brilliant _ . Tony’s better. You know it. I know it.” Darcy leaned over the podium, a button popping open all on it’s own to reveal the lacy edge of a black bra. Heathen. Trickster, she devil heathen. He loves her so much it fucking hurts. “Here’s my proposition gentlemen; every dollar invested into exploratory research will be matched by Tony Stark at twenty-five percent. A quarter for every dollar.  Twenty five million, for every one-hundred million. This is a give and take relationship; the more you put in, the more you’ll get back. Tony  _ will  _ bring results; you can only benefit.” 

 

Tony stares at her. Because...what? He doesn’t remember this coming up, in any conversation. 

 

Mr. Finklefuck turns to Tony. “Is that true, Mr. Stark?” 

 

“I...yes. Ms. Lewis is right; the developers at Stark Industries are the best in their fields, many hand picked by myself, and several chosen by Howard Stark himself. I’m constantly bombarded by fantastic ideas, few of which I can back. Development is pricy, but worth it. Investing in exploratory research might sound like a risk, but I have geniuses by the dozen, minds from every field.” 

 

“Most of you were handed your places here through your fathers,” Darcy concludes. “Tony’s no exception. But he’s the only one whose ever shown an inclination to grow from what your fathers gave you. You were raised to believe that the money was in weaponry- guns, missiles, nuclear devices.  Tony’s already proven this wrong. In the years since Tony denounced Stark Industries in the war efforts, his  _ personal  _ net worth has more than doubled.  Good karma breeds good karma, gentlemen. Now, it’s time for him to pave the way for the future of Stark Industries, and he needs your help. The company is currently considering expanding to include research in the medical areas, both bioengineering and technology; areas proven to be lucrative, far more lucrative than missiles. With the right banking, SI could change the face of medicine, of the  _ world _ .  We currently house one of the most influential minds in genealogy, as well as a budding team of doctors in all fields. The possibilities are endless. Not to mention other in-house fields of expertise. Why in Stark Towers alone----” 

 

*

 

Once the meeting is finished, board members sufficiently cooed at and smarmed, Tony and Darcy step into his private elevator. “Twenty billion dollars,” Tony says, feeling almost hollow in his awe. Darcy secured four  _ billion  _ dollars in an hour. 

 

“Twenty-five,” Darcy says, just as flatly. “Your twenty-five percent.” 

“Twenty-five billion dollars,” Tony breaths. “For exploratory research. Darcy, that’s....” 

 

Darcy nods. “I need to sit down.” 

 

She sits, right there on the floor of the elevator. Tony sits down beside her; honestly, his knees are feeling a little weak as well. “I don’t normally go to board meetings.” 

 

“Yeah,” Darcy says, like she knows this. She probably did. Pepper is her boss, after all. “I didn’t really think that through. I’m glad it all panned out.” 

 

“You committed me to five billion dollars,” Tony points out, but he can’t find it in himself to be mad. The turnabout rate will be fucking ridiculous; Tony reeks a majority of the profits, after all. Darcy could have easily just tripled that simple billion. Possibly more. 

 

Darcy laughs, a breathless thing. “You would have spent that much on your own anyway. I’ve seen the expense reports; you’ve been pouring your own profits into exploratory research for years. Your dad did the same thing.” 

 

“Which is how we got Captain America.” Tony can’t even be bothered to feel that little niggling of bitterness he usually gets when his father is mentioned. Darcy said he was better. And she believes it. His father never got a twenty billion dollar bank roll, after all.  _ Eat that Howard Stark.  _

 

He stares at her too long, until her brow furrows. “What?” 

 

“We don’t pay you enough,” he says, instead of  _ I love you.  _ “I don’t know what we pay you, actually. But it’s not enough. Double it.” 

 

“Tony,” Darcy says, sounding a little winded. Maybe he’d offered too much? He’s not sure. He really doesn’t know what they pay her. A lot, for sure. Pepper wouldn’t skimp. “I’m not--- I didn’t--- This wasn’t about money. I mean except for where it is. I just.” She looks away, eyes still wide. “I just...” 

 

“Wanted to change the world?” Tony elbows her. The elevator has stopped on their floor, but Jarvis seems to have realized a moment was needed. “You did good.” 

 

“I mean, I’m not a scientist.” She flushes a little, a pretty pink straight across her cheeks and nose that brings out freckles he hadn’t noticed before. “I just take care of scientists.” 

 

“You just took really, really good care of a lot of scientists.” 

 

“Yeah well.” She nods, once, firmly. “Good. That’s. Good. That’s what I wanted.” 

 

“Double,” Tony tells her again.  _ I love you. “ _ Seriously.” 

  
  



	2. Groomingdales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I’m about to have my ass hole waxed Darcy. If I have to suffer, so do you.” 
> 
> “I would argue that I have more leg than you do ass hole, but you’re one giant ass hole, so..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this a really long time ago haha

Pepper meets them in the lab, eyes wide and grin wider. Tony’s not surprised she already knows. “Darcy Lewis,” she exclaims, grabbing the girl by her shoulders. “That’s not what I wrote on the cue cards.” 

 

Darcy still looks a little flushed, but also pleased. “Eh. I figured I’d take a page out of Tony’s book and wing it. It panned out nicely.”

 

“Twenty billion dollars!” Pepper nearly  _ shouts _ . “With an expected turn-about of triple that in the first year alone.  We need to celebrate; we need to go shopping. My treat.” 

 

Darcy laughs. “I think I’ve spent enough of other people’s money today. And honestly, I still have to work out the paperwork for the proposition, and file the requisitions and invoices and---” 

 

“Nonsense,” Pepper tells her her. “This is a no work day. And...and you’re getting a raise. Double!” Tony grins when Darcy opens her mouth to argue. “And....And an an assistant of your own!  _ Twenty billion dollars’  _ Tony _ ,  _ change your shoes. We’re going shopping.” 

  
  


Pepper is...enthusiastic about shopping to say the least. Darcy isn’t, but Tony assumes that’s because she’s never shopped with a Tony Stark Black Card. 

 

“Pepper....all of this isn’t even going to fit in my closet,” Darcy says, eyeing the bags as the attendant loads them into the car. 

 

Pepper shrugs. “We’ll get you a new closet.” 

 

Darcy laughs at that, because she doesn’t know that Pepper is entirely serious. “This won’t even fit in my apartment.” 

 

Pepper is unperturbed and unrelenting. “We’ll get you a new apartment. You can afford it.”    
  


Tony flails for a moment. “Wait, you don’t live in Stark Towers?” 

 

“I live in Brooklyn,” Darcy tells him, with an amused look. 

 

“But you’re...you’re always there!” 

 

“She’s dedicated to her job Tony,” Pepper explains, grinning proudly at Darcy. “You were the best decision I ever made, right after dumping Tony.” 

 

Tony stares. He’s going to let that slide, not because it’s true but because other things are more important. “No really, you’re always there. You’re telling me you commute every single day?” 

 

“Fifteen miles in the pouring rain,” Darcy says, looking at him somewhat nervously. “Uphill both ways. Seriously though Tony, it’s not an issue. Pepper gave me a company car. With uh...with a company driver. Jack’s quiet, but he doesn’t judge when I gotta get dressed in the car.” She looks at him, at his hang-dog expression. “It isn’t personal, dude. I just think you gotta have a little bit of separation from personal and work life okay? I can’t bring dudes back to the Tower and you can only fuck so many Avengers for funsies before you kind of need to think about your life choices.” 

 

“Wait---How many have you slept with?” 

 

Darcy doesn’t answer. She just  _ laughs _ .

 

*

  
  


“Pack it up, T-Dog,” Darcy drawls, as she strolls into the lab a solid week later. “We’re going out.” 

 

“Can’t,” Tony says tightly, eyeing the postmorgriphier in front of him.  He hadn’t realized how far behind he was.  Considering what a slave driver Darcy could be, it didn’t make sense. He’d been busting his genius balls all week, along with signing papers, ducking down to Research and Development to eye the grunt current projects, plus meetings and conferences and charity events and----” 

  
  


“Chill dude,” Darcy tells him, laying a hand over his wrist. “I fucked with your schedule, pushed all your shit back a week and told you the wrong date. You earned yourself a whole week of fucking  _ off _ .” 

 

Tony stares at her. “Earned,” he repeats because excuse you, he’s Tony Stark. He can fuck off whenever he feels like, thank you. 

 

She waves his hand, and reads his mind. “Yeah yeah, Tony Stark, billionaire, blah blah blah.  But let me tell you, you don’t know the meaning of Friday until you’ve clocked ninety hours in a five day work week.” 

 

He’s exhausted, and kind of sweaty and the idea of taking a nap is actually more appealing than dealing with the masses at the moment. Darcy seems to get that too. 

 

“Wear the dirty jeans, throw on a blazer, and meet me in the lobby in half an hour,” she instructs him. “A couple hours of ego-stroking and you’ll be right back to your old self.” 

 

*

 

She’s right. He did need this. The press is in full effect, cameras flashing, mics aimed. Tony grins, with Darcy hanging off his arm, dressed in a Pepper-special; Little Black Dress, the heels from The Board Meeting and Stark Comm pinned to her ear. “The comm is to show people I’m an assistant, not an escort. This? This is business wear,” she tells him, striking a little pose. “I bought it on the company card and everything.” 

 

“I approve of your blatant disregard for company policy,” Tony replies, as they slip into an over crowded club. He keeps a tight hold of her, hand curled shamelessly around her back to cup her hip. He can’t have what he wants, so he’ll take what he can get.  They’re taken to a VIP room without so much as a word, though even it’s crowded with money-fuckers and sleazy businessman. 

 

“Let’s get shit faced and make the front page,” Darcy decides. “It’s been awhile since US Weekly’s done a spread on you. We’re not going home until you something so unbelievably ridiculous, the public is forced to find it charming and coo in your favor.” 

 

Tony grins at that. Oh, there’s been plenty of press coverage regarding the Avengers, and Iron Man. But...very little of Tony Stark. He won’t lie; it’s a bit of a buzz kill.  Sure, he likes being known as a superhero, but he’s more than that. He’s a billionaire philanthropist playboy dammit. He’s Tony Stark. He likes is booze, and he likes his babes, and he likes to schmooze and charm and be adored. He’s good at it. It’s his thing, outside the lab.  Sometimes, he’d like a little credit for that too. Darcy gets that. 

 

(Pepper didn’t.)

 

“Something shamelessly ridiculous,” he repeats, clucking his tongue. “What are my parameters?” 

 

She finishes her phone out of her cleavage - it’s a big phone, but it’s big cleavage - and taps furiously. “I updated your insurance policy to include incidental fires occurring in a fifty foot radius of your person, and texted Happy to hit an ATM for bail money. Anything thing else, we’ll handle as it comes. I mean, you’re Tony Stark. That’s gotta count for something .”

 

“And you’re Darcy Lewis,” Tony grins, eyeing the night club. “That should count for more. Come on, this place blows. Let’s get fancy-drunk and end up naked on TMZ.” 

 

“I knew there was a reason I didn’t wear underwear today,” Darcy tells him solemnly, stashing her phone back in her tits. 

 

It’s good that he’s already come to terms that he loves her. Loves her in her shitty converse shoes, loves her in her fucking heels. Loves her messy-faced and hung over. Loves her bringing board members to their knees. It’s good that he already knows he loves her, because it’s not unlike the feeling he felt as he plummeted out of the wormhole, half conscious and heading for the earth. 

 

*

 

Tony wakes up  _ three days _ later with a massive headache, naked, bruised and sunburned in some shithole motel who-the-fuck-knows-where.  Darcy blinks up at him from the spot on the floor next to the bed in a shitty motel. “I lost my comm,” she says, bleary eyed, mascara smeared down her face. “And my shoes. Aww man. I loved those shoes.” 

 

Tony moves to sit up, but thinks better of it, rolling closer to the edge of the bed instead, squinting at her. “Where are we?” 

 

She flails wildly, tangled in her dress. Grabbing something of the night stand, she reads it. “The Coral Cave...in uh...Portland? What the hell are we doing in Portland? How the hell did we  _ get  _ to Portland?” 

 

*

 

They took a private plane to Portland.  A non direct flight, as well. Apparently when Darcy said bar-hop, Tony took this literally.  Their three day bar crawl across America actually maxed one of his credit cards and violated at least two different no-fly zones.” 

 

Darcy blinks at him over a cup of steaming coffee at a dinner in the pretty city of Portland. “Spoke with the captain of our plane,” she tells him. “Apparently you insisted we fly over Nevada via helicopter, and then proceeded to piss on Area 51. I called in a favor with SHIELD, they’re smoothing that over now before any of the foil-heads start claiming Extraterrestrial Golden Showers.  Also, Pepper called. But I decided I wasn’t required to answer, as I am technically on my vacation days. You, however, have no such excuse.” On queue, the phone rang. Darcy answered it, and thrust it at him. “Don’t look at me that way, you’re the one who put your penis of emotions in her. Life choices Tony. Life choices.” 

 

Tony mouths Penis Of Emotions. Maybe to himself. Maybe to Darcy. “Pepper! Hi. How’s New York? What time is there, anyway?”  _ What time is it here _ , he thinks. 

 

“Portland,” Pepper says, voice flat and even. “Portland. You abducted my assistant and fled to  _ Portland _ ?” 

Tony watches as Darcy picks up a half-empty bottle of Jack off the bedside table, and sniff it. She makes a face, but drinks it anyway. Tony’s pretty sure he see’s a cigarette butt floating in there. Neither of them smoke. Darcy Lewis gives no fucks. Tony kind of has a boner. 

 

“Abducted is such a harsh word. I mean, she instigated. She absconded me from my lab, Pep! She enticed me with promises of explosions and embarrassing headlines. How was I to resist, really.” He pauses, out of excuses, and tangled words. “She kidnapped me. You hired her, so this is your fault.” A moment later, the bathroom door swung open, revealing what could not be mistaken for anything but a scantily clad  _ hooker _ . “I have to go,” Tony tells Pepper, ending the call abruptly. “Uh.” 

 

“Hate to fuck and run,” the hooker says, pulling her skirt on. Except it isn’t a skirt; it’s a dress. Sort of. Barely. It’s covering everything, at any rate. “You were great, really. You ever need a girl on call, you give me a ring!” 

 

“Wait!” Darcy says, voice breaking like a prepubescent frog. “Wait, which one of us fucked you?” It’s a good question. Tony would thank her for asking, except he kind of wants to puke or maybe do some shots. It could go either way. 

 

“Both” she says. Tony’s not sure what to do with that. “Several times. You passed out face down on my runway on her third...uh flight to O-town, but Trever there finished landing the plane, so to speak. Really though,” the hooker assures Darcy. Trevor? Seriously? Does he look like a Trevor? “That’s the best night I’ve spent on my knees in a long time.” 

 

Tony blinks, and wonders where his pants are. “Did we pay you?” 

 

“Oh yeah, double up front,” she pauses, and winks saucily. “In the back too, if you know what I mean. You fuck like a  _ machine _ .” She pauses a moment, eyes flickering to Darcy. “You’re both a bunch of freaks. Normally, I’d have charged more for what  _ she  _ wanted, but I’ve never come so hard in my life. I think I broke my pinky toe, it curled so hard. Seriously, mind blown.” 

 

Darcy’s flabbergasted face shifts into something decidedly more smug.  

 

It’s ten minutes later, hooker gone, phones turned to silent, Tony sits up on the bed. His wallet is in the nightstand drawer, full of big bills and platinum cards. “Didn’t steal anything, and she put the coffee on. I guess people really are nice in Portland.” 

 

They do make the papers.  Pepper’s not thrilled. PR gets a raise. Darcy cuts their picture out of US weekly and frames it for his desk in the lab. They’re drunk as shit. Tony’s licking the frosting off a mystery donut. Darcy’s picking sprinkles out of Tony’s beard with one hand, a bottle of Grey Goose in the other.  He likes it more than he should. 

 

People in Portland are givers. Or at least the hooker was a giver. It takes Tony a while to notice, so long in fact, Darcy has to call him out on it. “Drop it likes it’s hot Tony; we have an appointment we can’t miss.”

 

Tony looks up at the holograms Darcy sets up like an Airport monitor above his workspace, that shows his daily schedule, including any delays. “We do? There’s nothing there but ‘Mindless Tinkering’ (which Tony decides not to take offense too - mindless tinkering is how he made Butterfingers, actually. Which, maybe it could have been a little less mindless...but eh.) 

 

“That's because I made the appointment under the names Sebastian and Eugene and left it out of your itinerary.” Tony blinks at her, and Darcy sighs. This is obviously a pop culture reference he isn’t getting. “Crabs, Tony. I made the appointment for our crabs.” 

 

Come to think of it...Tony has been a little itchy. “Sebastian I get- Little Mermaid. Eugene?”

 

“Sponge Bob. Not my favorite, but there aren’t actually a lot of iconic crabs, okay?” Darcy sighed, and ran a hand through her ever tangled curls. “Tony, seriously. We share a lot of things. Lunch. Bottles of jack. Hookers. I think crabs might be crossing a line. Our friendship is making me uncomfortable.” 

 

It isn’t really, Tony knows that. But he’s caught on the word  _ friendship _ . “On the contrary,” he says, feeling suddenly awkward. “I think it makes us bros for life.” 

 

“We’re going to the doctors for the best special ointment Stark money can buy on the quiet,” she tells him, ordering Dum Dum to clean up his tools, as You goes to gather his shoes. “And then we’re going to this hole-in-a-wall spa where they won’t ask questions when I ask for the front-to-back package on two-for-one landscaping.” 

 

Tony toes his feet into his loafers. “You don’t get yard work done at a----ohhh,” he finishes, when she gives him a raised look. “Front to back?” 

 

“We’re going Brazilian, baby.” 

 

The spa really is a hole in the wall, built into the alley between a Kickboxing gym and a hair salon in downtown New York. It’s clean though, if cramped. “Hi, yeah. I have a double appointment with Miquel?” 

 

“Right this way,” the legitimately Brazillian if not super bored receptionist says, leading Tony and Darcy through the narrow studio. “Strip down, then lay on your backs on the table; there are privacy cloths on the table. Miki will be back in a moment.” 

 

Darcy stares at him as he stares at her. “Turn around, you pervert,” she snaps irritably, thumbing the button on her jeans. 

 

Oh right, Tony thinks. He has no business seeing her naked, even though they’ve shared a bed, and a hooker and now both have crabs most likely born from the same mother. They are sharing a family of crabs. He looks away, drops his pants, and climbs up on the table, just as Darcy does. 

 

If he can see the perfect reflection of her ass in the mirror covered cabinets, he’s not going to point that out to her.  

 

On his back, knees bent with a glorified towel spread over his thighs, Tony stares at the ceiling and wonders why he didn’t tell Darcy no. This has got to be one of the more undignified situations he’s been forced into, barring the ones he forces himself into. Why didn’t he tell her no? It never even crossed his mind. 

 

“Darcy!” Miki says, as he bustles into the room. He’s short, with olive skin and slicked back hair and a dark gray v-neck t-shirt that makes him look like a total douchebag. “Thought you were an eye-brows only kind of girl?” 

 

“Heeeeey Mik,” Darcy says, from her table, sounding totally chagrined. “So, me and my buddy here got friendly with a Portland local, who sent us home with friends if you know what I mean.” She shrugs, shoulders crinkling against the paper cover on the table.

 

“Ahhh,  _ caranjuego _ ,” he says, in accentless Portuguese. He snaps on a pair of latex gloves, as an assistant steps into the room, steaming pot of wax in hand. “You’ll be wanting the American Pride then?” 

 

Tony blinks. “American?” 

 

Darcy seems confused by this too. “I thought the full-monty was called Hollywood.” 

 

Miki laughs, scooting over between Tony’s legs first, the little bastard. “Aye, in some places. But America seems more appropriate. Bald, you know. Like your eagles.” 

 

Darcy snorts, but it shifts to a yelp as the nameless assistant settles herself on a thigh between Darcy’s legs. “Gah,” she grunts, reaching out to grab Tony’s hand. “Jesus Christ this is going to suck.” 

 

Tony stares at their joined hands because  _ what _ . “I can guarantee it’s going to suck for me more.” He’s a little fuzzy down there, whatever, he’s a guy. Guy’s are suppose to be hairy. He has a routine or whatever. He’s tidy about it. He’s just....hirsute. Suddenly, he can’t help but imagine Bruce getting waxed. It’s surprisingly heartening. 

 

“Lovely scaping,” Miki tells him. “You’re far more neatly trimmed than most first-timers we get.” Tony doesn’t blush because Tony never blushes but he’s not sure how he feels about having his pubes talked about so openly. 

 

He can feel Darcy’s hand shaking in his and knows she’s trying not to laugh. “Shaddup,” he mutters, flinching when the first strip of wax is laid. 

 

It’s not a minute later both he and Darcy are swearing like the bastard child of whores and sailors. “Motherfucking cunt weasel jesus christ on a crumpet I have been shot and it hurt less than this,” Tony hisses, legs twitching. 

 

“I would rather crabs,” Darcy wheezes, hand clenched too tight in Tony’s hand that it actually hurts a little. “Oh my God! Never again.” 

Tony had a reply he really did, but it’s lost to the pain of having one's balls waxed in three easy pulls.

 

“Not quite,” Miki says, the grin in his voice evident. The man is a sadist. SHIELD would do better to recruit him for Torture/Information, than let such skills rot waxing twats in Brooklyn. “Mr.Darcy’s Friend has a bit further to go.  Would you like Carla to do your legs while we finish him up?” 

 

Darcy balks. “No we would----’ 

 

Tony cuts her off. “Yes, yes she would.  I’m about to have my ass hole waxed Darcy. If I have to suffer, so do you.” 

 

“I would argue that I have more leg than you do ass hole, but considering you’re one  _ giant  _ ass hole----” Darcy hisses, as Carla the Assistant does  _ something  _ beneath the privacy cloth. “If I do this, you have too...you have too....oh god I can’t think of anything worse than getting your ass hole waxed, fuck fine do the legs.” 

 

“That’s the spirit.” Miki grins, as he slaps Tony’s leg. “Roll over,” he says cheerily. 

 

Darcy’s still on her back, as Tony rolls to his bell. “If nothing else,” she says, reaching out to take his hand again and why, why does she keep doing that it’s weird, he’s forty years old, her hand is crazy soft--- “this totally makes us bros for life.”

 

“It certainly doesn’t hur----  _ Captain Ameeerica _ ,” Tony screeches, hitching up the table.

 

Darcy would laugh, but Carla was already lathering her legs up in hot wax. “Mother, mother, mother, mother----” 

 

“I find it funny that you use the word mother in lieu of real swear words,” Tony commented, just as Miki laid down another strip. “Mommy issu---aahhhh!” 

  
  


*

 

Tucked away in the back of the limo, raw-skinned and red faced, Darcy and Tony stared blankly at each other, scotch glasses raised. “To American,” Darcy said, in a flat voice. “This is what we get for letting our bald eagles fly.” 

 

Tony takes a deep drink. “To be fair, my eagle wasn’t bald at the time. Carla didn’t have much to strip from your down stairs. What was that, four pulls and you were done?”

 

“I have one word for you Tony Stark,” Darcy tells him, before taking her own long drink. “ _ Labia _ .” 

 

Tony winces because ouch. “Oh god yeah, okay. It sucked for both of us. May we never bump uglies with the women of Portland again.” 

 

“Officially a no fly zone,” Darcy agrees, before giving him a long look. “Hey, how much do you remember of that night?” 

 

Tony looks up for a moment, fuzzy, off-colored memories fluttering past his mind. “Not much, why?” 

 

She picks at the edge of the seat, legs rolled up over her knees so the denim won’t chafe her calves. “Just...do you think you went down on her?” 

 

Immediately Tony’s beard starts itching, and he’s not sure if it’s psychosomatic or face crabs. Oh god. Oh God---- “I can’t shave this beard Darcy. It’s iconic. I can’t----” 

 

“I’ll check it out,” she assures him quickly, grabbing his wrist. “Fine tooth comb, and all that. Plus...” She winces, making a face. “I think I’m the only one that went down on her.” 

 

Again, his boner is confused. A, girl on girl. B....crabs. “Fuck the glass, let’s drink the bottle.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there aren't a lot of iconic crabs. I checked.


End file.
